


Metaphors for Impossible Things

by schneestern



Category: Bandom
Genre: AU, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-12
Updated: 2009-01-12
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneestern/pseuds/schneestern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: AU, Incest, sex in a church, Gerard is a priest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metaphors for Impossible Things

It's the Monday afternoon service, so the church is almost empty. There are mostly elderly people there, scattered across the first three rows. Under the huge dome of the church they almost disappear, small and unimportant.

Mikey sits down in the pew in the last row, crosses his feet under himself Indian style. The snow on his boots is still wet and muddy, seeps into the bottom of his pants, but he doesn't feel it anymore. His leather jacket, old and battered, makes squelching noises when he folds his arms in front of his chest. It's too thin for the weather outside, but Mikey would rather freeze to death than part with the damn thing.

Gerard is standing up front in the pulpit, preaching in his quiet, steady voice. It's the same one he used when they were kids, when Mikey was scared or bored or hungry. Gerard used it to calm him down, told him stories about monsters and the unlikely heroes who fought them.

Most of the time those heroes were two brothers.

Now, Gerard is talking about God, about faith and about belief. He's good at this, always has been. The old ladies adore him, the old men respect him. He's not the most popular preacher around but he's well regarded, he fits in.

Mikey scratches the back of his neck and waits. It takes a while, but he can tell the exact moment when Gerard's eyes land on him. Even from the very back he can see the recognition, see Gerard uselessly trying to look away, but never missing a beat as he talks.

His eyes stay on Mikey for the rest of the sermon and Mikey smiles at him.

Gerard doesn't smile back.

The sermon takes longer than Mikey expected, but he hasn't heard one in years so it's not surprising. He spends the time looking at Gerard closely, the way his hands look older, worn, but his face seems to be aging backwards. He looks younger than Mikey's seen him in years.

It's only when Gerard makes a brief pause before coming to his conclusion that Mikey realizes his hand has strayed into his lap, pressing against his dick. Slowly, he pulls it away, considers the outline of his erection pressing against his pants. He rests his hand on his thigh and sits up straighter, concentrates on his breathing.

When Gerard's done, Mikey waits in the last row until most of the people have cleared out. Finally he gets up to go to the front, leaves wet foot prints in the aisle. He listens to the sound of his boots on the stone floor, to the echo coming back to him from the high walls. Gerard's standing at the front, hands clasped in front of his cassock, eyes steadily on Mikey.

Something warm and familiar curls low in Mikey's belly and he has to will himself to walk slower, to draw this out for as long as he can.

When he reaches Gerard they stand there, facing each other through the impenetrable silence of the church.

"Father," Mikey says and casts his eyes down to the floor, listens to the way Gerard's breath mirrors his.

"You want to confess, Michael?" Gerard's voice is deeper now, as if he's asking Mikey for a favor no one else should hear.

Mikey looks up and nods.

*

The confessional is too small for this. It's too public, it's too stuffy and the walls aren't nearly thick enough to muffle their sounds.

Mikey sinks down on his knees anyway, pushes Gerard back until he hits the wall. There's a brief hesitation when Mikey tries to find a good position and Gerard fumbles his cassock up and out of the way, pushes his boxer briefs down.

"It's good to see you," Gerard says and touches Mikey's snow-wet hair, runs his fingers through the sticky strands and tugs Mikey closer.

Mikey curls his hand around Gerard's dick and leans in, follows where Gerard is pulling him. He licks slowly at the tip, the musky, heavy smell filling his nostrils, always stronger than he remembers it. He grabs Gerard's hip with his other hand, feels the smooth skin and rubs his thumb over the curve of Gerard's hip bone.

"You look good. Brian told me you got some sort of job as a--a courier?"

Mikey doesn't react, opens his lips wider instead, lets the head of Gerard's dick slip into his mouth. He feels Gerard twitch and tightens his hold on Gerard's hip, willing him to stay still. Immediately, Gerard freezes, his slowly hardening dick the only indication that he's aroused. He's still talking in that calm, reassuring voice. It makes Mikey's skin prickle.

"I've been trying to get you a place to stay. It would help a lot if you showed up though when I let you know about that stuff."

Mikey hums and feels Gerard's fingers dig into his scalp, nudge his head forward. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it and Mikey's not about to let him rush this. He takes his time sucking at the tip of Gerard's dick, feels it swell and thicken in his mouth. He runs the tip of his tongue over the tip, licks the first drops of precome away.

"They'd even get you a fridge. The bathroom's shared, but it has a decent lock, I checked. And it's only three other people on the floor, so that's okay."

As he talks, Gerard's fingers wrap tighter around the strands of Mikey's hair, pushing forward. This time Mikey lets him, opens his mouth wider, wills his jaw to relax. He takes his hand away from where he's been holding Gerard's dick, puts it on his thigh, curled in a loose fist. It's not his turn yet.

"Her name is Margret. She's been coming to the church for years. I'm sure she'll let you smoke on her balcony occasionally, if you look after her cats. You'll love them, they have the softest fur."

Mikey closes his eyes on the slow push in, Gerard's dick sliding along his tongue, filling his mouth. It's almost too much but Mikey ignores it, ignores the spit trailing out of the corner of his mouth too and the needy sounds he's making. Gerard's hand slides from his hair to cup his chin, thumb rubbing at the corner of Mikey's mouth.

Mikey doesn't have to open his eyes to know that Gerard's not even looking, not even really paying attention to this. He's too wrapped up in the plans he has for Mikey, how he can establish him in a better life.

Nevermind that Mikey doesn't need saving anymore.

"The neighborhood could be better, I guess, but for the rent they want, it's fine. Just, you know, be careful after dark. Don't stay out too late."

It takes all of Mikey's concentration to breathe evenly through his nose and he knows he's holding onto Gerard's hip too hard, leaving small finger-shaped bruises there. And then Gerard's hips hitch forward and his dick hits the back of Mikey's throat. For a fleeting moment Mikey can't breathe, can only smell Gerard, hear his even voice, feel the heavy weight of his dick on his tongue. He swallows hard, once, twice, tries to move back but Gerard holds him in place for so long that Mikey sees tiny pinpricks of light against his eyelids.

Then he's pulling at Mikey's hair, pulling him off far enough that he can breathe again but not far enough for Mikey to stop sucking his dick. There's a faint burn at the back of Mikey's throat and he breathes heavily through his nose. Gerard's still talking, but Mikey's not listening anymore, realizes faintly that he has his hand shoved down his own pants now, working his dick roughly. It's a weird disconnect he's used to by now. Sometimes he doesn't notice he's jerking off until he's coming.

Gerard's hand is nudging at the back of his head, but slower now and Mikey moves his head forward, sets up a slow rhythm, lips sliding up and down the length of Gerard's dick. He matches the rough slide of the hand on his own dick with his mouth on Gerard's, makes it one long forward motion that bleeds into a backward slide and forward again.

His lips feel raw and swollen, spit-slick and hot. He's moaning now around the fullness of Gerard in his mouth, needy noises he ignores just as much as Gerard going on and on about his potential new apartment. He works himself rougher than Gerard, needs more to get off than Gerard ever does.

"You can even bring that girl you talked about once. She sounded nice. I'm sure she could help with the rent too. What was her name again? Alice? Was that her name? You should tell me her name."

Mikey hollows out his cheeks and takes Gerard in deep again, swallows around his dick and then speeds up his movements, bobs his head faster. He knows Gerard's close because he's repeating himself, always does before he comes. Mikey's close too, but he's holding off. He needs Gerard to come first.

He pulls back and sucks at the tip of Gerard's dick, swirls his tongue around it and then presses it into the underside, against _that_ spot. Gerard's hips twitch forward and Mikey sucks harder, takes a bit more of it into his mouth.

Gerard's hand falls away from Mikey's head and he abruptly stops in the middle of his sentence, lets out a harsh ragged breath that sounds like he's dying.

When he comes, he whispers, "Mikes, Mikey. Oh, God."

Mikey swallows as much of Gerard's come as he can, jerks himself through his own orgasm and wipes his hand on his pants after he's done. He lets go of Gerard's hip, pulls back and feels Gerard's limp dick slip from his lips. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up.

Gerard pulls on his clothes and straightens them, runs a hand through his hair.

They look at each other in the ensuing silence, strange mirror of earlier, outside in the aisle of the church. It smells like come and sweat and melting snow. Gerard's eyes are warm and friendly. Mikey reaches out a hand and touches his fingers to Gerard's lips.

Gerard reaches up, grabs Mikey's wrist and pulls his hand away.

"You should come by again next week. I like seeing you at mass."

Mikey feels the intense urge to slam Gerard into the wall, shove his thigh between Gerard's legs and kiss that easy smile right off his lips.

"Sure. Thank you, Father," he says instead and turns to leave.

Gerard grabs his arm and turns him back around in the narrow space.

"Mikey." For the briefest moment Mikey sees something on his face that he recognizes, something from the Gerard who'd sit in their basement with a half-empty bottle of vodka, sketching the zombie apocalypse.

He swallows. "Gerard. Please."

Gerard releases his arm like he's been burned and moves forward, pushes right past Mikey.

"Excuse me," he says politely, but it sounds like he's apologizing for a lot more than shoving Mikey out of the way.

Mikey watches his retreating back, the stiffness in the muscles of his neck, the hairs curling around his ears.

"Fuck this shit," Mikey says but it has no bite and it takes him a couple of moments before he can leave too.


End file.
